If I Had a Hammer

"Don't blame Christ for the Christians."  So says one of the characters in The Parchman Hour, a riveting play by Mike Wiley about the 1961 Freedom Riders who rode interstate buses into the Deep South in an effort to end the illegal segregation of public transportation.  Many of them found themselves arrested and locked up in the Mississippi State Penitentiary, alias the Parchman Farm.  They were beaten, abused, and suffered an endless list of grievances.  At one point in the play when life has become unbearable for the inmates, one of the Freedom Riders wonders about the morality of Christ and the people who profess to worship Him.

I have absolutely no family connection to the Civil War, the Civil Rights movement, segregation, or Jim Crow laws.  Racial discrimination is not a part of my past.  While many of my neighbors' great-great-great-grand daddies were fighting for the North or the South, mine were settling the Rocky Mountain west.  They walked across the plains to Utah, Idaho, and Wyoming to be spared another notorious form of discrimination, religious.  My ancestors were apparently not Christian enough.  Evil twins, racial and religious discrimination both spawned lynchings, murder, mob violence, destruction of property, and innocent people forced from their homes.  As noted in The Parchman Hour, so much of it was perpetuated by those who claimed to be Christian.

My husband and I had a wonderful discussion after the play (art should always foster great discussions!).  We talked about how we don't understand that kind of hatred.  It is simply unfathomable to us that human beings would attack their fellow human beings over bus seats.  What are we, kindergartners? "Johnny's in my seat!" "No, I'm not!" "Yes, you are!" "No, I'm not!"  Childish, isn't it?  I have friends of many faiths including Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Wiccan, Judaism, and every flavor of Christianity, and not one of them is so despicable as to deny someone a bus seat, or a bench in a bus stop, a chair, a couch, a bed, a coat, or a pat on the back due to race or religion.

So who do we blame for the "Christians?"  Who do we blame for the Muslims who set off bombs?  For the Buddhists who marched prisoners to Bataan? Who do we blame for anyone who spreads the kind of intolerance we saw depicted in the theater?  It can only come from those whose narrow minds are afraid of change, afraid of learning something new, or afraid of someone who is different.  These are they who coach the rising generation in the ways of hatred.  To quote Oscar Hammerstein in the wonderful musical about prejudice, South Pacific, "You have to be carefully taught."

The Parchman Hour intersperses songs from the 1960's throughout the production.  One of my favorites has always been "If I Had a Hammer."  It's such a simple concept.  Get a hammer, and do something with it!  I found myself thinking after the performance, if I had a hammer I'd knock down some walls.  You know those walls that separate us from each other, things like bias, ignorance, grudges.  I'd take a whack at those first.  Then I'd start hammering on a few heads, just the especially hard ones, the ones full of war-mongering, rumor-making, strife-creating nonsense.  Finally, I'd use my hammer to build.  To build communities where we can all live, learn, and worship in peace and safety.

If The Parchman Hour comes to a town near you, go and see it.  It is an evening well spent.  You will sing, laugh, and be changed for the better.  Then go to Lowe's a buy a hammer.  All people regardless of race and all religions regardless of beliefs can contribute to make this world a better place.  As Stephen Schwartz tells us in his musical Godspell, "We can build a beautiful city, yes we can."

The Parchman Farm Women's Barracks

A hammer from Lowe's